Easily Overlooked
by Conjure Lass
Summary: A collection of short Uraichi drabbles that fall into the timeline i've started with Sour Apple. Mostly fluff, but maybe a few might be a little angsty/sad/angry/whatever. Now rated M for your reading pleasure! Enjoy!
1. Overlooked

Ichigo had been staring at the same trigonometry problem for the past twenty minutes with little to no success. He'd write something down, scratch it out, erase a little bit, write some more, and then continue staring…he wasn't getting anywhere! He knew he had to play catch up with the rest of his class, but it wasn't proving to be the easiest thing in the entire world to do. The problem seemed to get longer the more he stared at it, increasing in difficulty the more times he tried to solve it.

Was he just stupid or something? Was being a shinigami making him dumber?

"What's wrong Ichigo?" he heard from the doorway, turning to see Kisuke come in through the sliding screen carrying a tray of hot tea and some kind of random cookie looking thing. It had to be foreign, Kisuke loved those sorts of things.

Huffing softly, he blew a lock of his hair out of his eyes and felt his bottom lip come out. Was he pouting? "Nothing," he answered sulkily, scratching angrily at the spot on his paper where he'd attempted the problem at least six times. "I'm just an idiot apparently."

Urahara made a noise beside him, somewhere between a sniff and a clucking of the tongue. "You are no such thing," he admonished, setting down the tray without moving its contents and sliding up behind Ichigo until their bodies were pressed together and a long line of heat had begun to form. Legs clad in green spread to either side of his thighs as he was pulled in closer, Kisuke's chin resting on his shoulder so that he could read the paper in front of them while wrapping his arms around Ichigo's waist.

"Well," Urahara murmured into Ichigo's ear. "You need a new piece of paper. You're frustrating yourself."

Complying wordlessly, Ichigo pulled a fresh piece of paper from his small stack and recopied the problem from the original ruined one. "And now?" he said petulantly, resting comfortably against the chest at his back but still feeling too stubborn to calm down. "Is the problem magically going to do itself or am I suddenly going to get smarter?"

"Ichigo," Urahara's voice went an octave lower, his serious tone. Ichigo bit at his lip slightly at the sound of his boyfriend's voice, knowing he'd struck a nerve he hadn't meant to. The gray eyes were glancing at him from the corner, a pale eyebrow raised menacingly.

When Ichigo was quiet again Urahara looked down at the open book that the problem had come from, then back at the paper, than back at the open book. His demeanor changed suddenly, pushing his face into Ichigo's shoulder as his body shook with soundless laughter.

Not understanding what was going on, Ichigo pushed his head against Urahara's , eyes narrowing in annoyance. "What? What's so funny? I swear, if you're laughing at me-!"

"No, no Ichigo," Urahara murmured, moving to kiss the soft patch of skin behind Ichigo's ear, making him shiver. "I think I know what the dilemma is."

"What?" Ichigo asked, turning his head to place a chaste kiss on Kisuke's lips. "Are you going to do my homework for me?"

"No," Kisuke responded, narrowing his eyes and pushing his finger onto the tip of Ichigo's nose. "But it might be a good idea to actually copy the problem down correctly from the book…you tend to get further when the numbers are accurate."

Blinking a few times, Ichigo turned his attention to the problem at hand, eyes widening when he discovered that-yes-he had indeed copied the problem down wrong a half hour ago! Mouth falling open slightly, he turned to see Kisuke moving back over to the teapot and pouring some steaming liquid into two delicate china cups.

"Oftentimes Ichigo," Kisuke said with a wink, pushing one cup to him "the solution is the thing we most easily overlook."


	2. Nostalgia

Urahara Kisuke preferred the quiet. Blissful serenity made it easier to think, easier to work, easier to observe, easier to calm down, and was (in his opinion) just all-around better than the constant cacophony that the modern world seemed to provide.

But not today.

Today as he lay on his futon with his blond hair falling over his face, he felt as though the noiselessness was stifling, bearing down upon him until his breath seemed shallow and insubstantial. Though he was loathe to admit it, he absolutely hated this day…the day his life was irrevocably changed, the day he lost everything. Exile. Banishment. Ostracism. No label he could come up with seemed to make it any better, no words powerful enough to describe the absolute terror of being forcefully wrenched away from your birthplace.

He should have been over it by now, and for the most part he was. There was a freedom here in the living world that he hadn't been able to find in Soul Society. But that didn't mean that being unable to return home was any less painful. Most years he allowed the day to go by unnoticed, submerging himself in work so that he wouldn't dwell upon it or give it any sort of hold on his emotions. If you were to ask him about it he would blow the question off, downplaying the event, acting as though he didn't care at all. But…sometimes…like now? Right now he was desperately homesick. He wanted to go home!

Badly.

He had just pulled the covers up over his head, burying his nose in his pillow, when he heard the door to his bedroom slide open. Who the hell was disturbing him? Hadn't he said an hour ago that he was going to bed and that he didn't want to be bothered until tomorrow morning? Was it so much to ask to simply be left alone to indulge in the emotions that he so rarely allowed himself to fully feel? Was that so selfish?

Kisuke could hear socks trailing along the floor tentatively, as though unsure of their welcome, towards him. They paused when they reached the futon, shifting back and forth nervously before the figure knelt down. A solid minute passed by torturously as Urahara lay motionless, refusing to pull the covers from his head to look at his uninvited guest. Let them just stay out there…he didn't care! They could sit there all damn day and stare at his sleeping form and he wouldn't be even slightly concerned. It would serve them right for being so insensitive.

"Kisuke?" came the soft voice, laced with concern and unspoken emotion.

Urahara's breath left him slowly, pulling down the covers so that only his the top of his head and his eyes were showing above the sheets to peer at his visitor. Ichigo. The brown eyes that so often held anger or stubborn resolution were now overshadowed with worry, the redhead's jaw set in a tense line. His hand was partially extended towards the bed, as though he had been in the process of reaching out to touch Kisuke when he was interrupted. Even his hair was a little more messy than normal. The younger man seemed completely distressed.

Their eyes met and Kisuke sighed audibly, blinking bleary eyes before closing them again and snuggling more securely in his sheets. He could hear Ichigo above him give a small grunt of disapproval, the hand extending fully to touch his blonde hair, attempting to give comfort. It made something in Kisuke's chest loosen just a little to feel those fingers moving so easily through his hair, trailing lower onto his cheek, caressing his cheekbone gently. He'd never had anyone really console him about his banishment before. No one. Not in a hundred years.

Not even Yoruichi had been able to coax a genuine response from Urahara in regards to the matter…and she had tried very hard. What was the point really? What could she (or anyone) say to make him feel better about it?

"Do you still miss it?" Ichigo whispered, finally scooting the rest of the way down and grabbing the edge of the blanket to lift it up. Kisuke shifted to the side to allow the redhead to enter his futon, opening his eyes again to let their gazes meet. Ichigo was regarding him with scrutiny, observing his motions and reactions carefully. It wasn't something that the younger man had done too often when Urahara had first met him. Oh, how things had changed.

When Kisuke nodded, almost wincing in shame, Ichigo's arms came around him. The act was so sudden, so unexpected, that it made Urahara start, blinking dumbly as though it were the first time he'd ever been held by another living being. His breaths were coming faster now, not able to stop his hands from coming up to clutch at the younger mans's shirt, moving his head from the pillow to bury it in the crook of Ichigo's neck.

They'd never had this kind of reversal of roles, slipping out of their normal part to wear the mask of the other. Usually it was Kisuke comforting Ichigo, always being the supporting rock that the redhead leaned upon. Now, things had taken an abrupt about-face and Urahara was left wondering when he'd become so juvenile and when Ichigo had become so strong.

"It's okay you know," Ichigo murmured, nuzzling at Urahara's hair with his nose. "It's normal to be sad about it. I wish you'd told me. I would have stayed over last night."

Kisuke didn't respond verbally, instead wrapping his arms securely around the slim body next to him and kissing Ichigo's neck. The world was narrowing now, emotions that he kept firmly in check bubbling to the surface. Each moment was a struggle to keep himself at least partially in control, to not allow his outside demeanor to totally crash and burn. But there was so much comfort there in Ichigo's voice, such tenderness in his actions, that it was enough to warm up the small, icy place in Urahara's chest where he kept all the pain and disappointment of his previous life.

Previous life. The life before Ichigo. Before any of this. Had it been emptier?

"You're home now, right?" Ichigo's voice was barely a wisp as he clutched Kisuke closer to him, his hands running down the blonde's spine. "Right?"

"Yes Ichigo," Urahara finally found his voice, though it was small and almost quivering. His weakness was oozing from him in embarrassing waves…but he didn't care. Not with Ichigo. Not right now. "I am."


	3. Evergreen

Ichigo's birthday had been the week before. The occasion had been spent as it usually was with his family and closest friends at the Kurosaki clinic, which had been redecorated (in pastels, much to Ichigo's horror) by a very enthusiastic Orihime. Isshin had wanted to have the party at the zoo, but that idea had been effectively nixed after it was discovered that the last time he had gone the monkeys had mysteriously gotten out of their cages and run rampant. Isshin denied the claim.

Urahara hadn't been invited, but then he really hadn't expected to be. While Isshin and Karin were aware of his and Ichigo's relationship, dear Yuzu was not, nor were his friends. Kisuke, while on the inside being a little disappointed, had nevertheless thought it better not to make his presence known let awkward questions be asked. Ichigo had protested of course, saying that Urahara was just as important to him as family and should be there…but Kisuke hadn't given in. The last thing he wanted was for Ichigo to feel uncomfortable on his birthday, which Urahara's appearance was bound to do.

Ichigo had walked away slowly after that argument, his reiatsu pulsing with some strange mix of emotions that Urahara couldn't place. He only knew that the younger man was desperately upset. Only that there were things Ichigo had left unsaid.

And so it was a week later and Ichigo hadn't come to visit him even once. Urahara had a feeling he knew what the problem was, but since the redhead wouldn't return his calls he couldn't confirm or deny his suspicions. Eventually (after the fifteenth or so call) he'd given up and decided to wait Ichigo out, knowing that the younger man was stubborn and would only come around after he'd thought things through.

Now he found himself sitting on his back porch, staring out at the lot of small trees with a cooling cup of tea that he couldn't seem to bring himself to drink and an incredibly heavy heart. Maybe he should have just given in to Ichigo's request, maybe then he wouldn't be so lonely…maybe Ichigo wouldn't be so angry at him. Maybe Ichigo wasn't angry at all. Maybe it was something else entirely. Kisuke wasn't sure. As much of a genius as he may have been, he was woefully inexperienced in the ways of love and relationships. Why didn't intelligence and common sense ever apply to these situations?!

Sighing softly, he looked down at the contents of his cup as though they held the answers to all his questions. Nothing was making sense right now…

"Why are you sitting out here all alone Kisuke?" the soft voice came from behind him, making Urahara drop his cup in surprise. The china shattered on the rocks below, tea splashing up onto Urahara's bare feet before the quiet rushed back in to meet them. Kisuke had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't even felt Ichigo come into the shop, nor had he heard it when he walked out onto the porch.

He didn't turn to look at the younger man, not wanting to see anger in those brown eyes directed at him. "I didn't feel like working," he murmured, his voice sadder than he had meant it to be. Ichigo had the innate ability to strip away his ability to hide his emotions without even having to try. "I couldn't concentrate anyway…"

The silence settled back in around them, a stifling thing rather than a comfort. The sensation was so foreign in Ichigo's company that it caused him to close his eyes against a sudden swell of sadness, biting gently at his bottom lip. There was no sound for a few moments, the atmosphere becoming so still that Urahara thought Ichigo had left. It would serve him right, he supposed.

So it was no small surprise when he felt the younger man's arms wrap around him from behind, Ichigo's body pressing a warm line against his spine, burying his face in the back of Kisuke's neck. Instantly Urahara responded, linking his fingers with the ones clutching at his shirt and leaning back into the warmth. He could feel Ichigo's heart pounding fast against him and felt his own pulse speed up in reply.

"Are you ashamed of me?" came the nearly inaudible question, muffled by Kisuke's hair.

Kisuke's heart nearly stopped, his eyebrows coming together as his misgivings were all confirmed for him. Yes…that's what he'd thought was wrong. Instead of taking Urahara's refusal to attend his birthday celebration as a way to avoid unnecessary stress, Ichigo had taken it as a sign that he was embarrassed about their relationship…not wanting others to know out of shame.

Instantly Urahara turned in Ichigo's arms, pushing their foreheads together and meeting that burning ochre stare with something less than complete confidence. There was no anger there like he had imagined, only layer upon layer of dejection and confusion. His hands came up slowly, cradling Ichigo's cheeks in his palms and running the pads of his thumbs over the delicate skin. If he had known Ichigo was this distressed he would have broken into his room days ago to remedy the situation. The thought that his young lover had been feeling this way for an entire week made something in his chest squeeze almost painfully tight.

"No, Ichigo," he said, his voice wavering slightly. "Never."

"Then why don't you want anyone to know about us?" Ichigo questioned further, his eyes opening wider as though to hold in tears. "Why are we keeping it a secret?"

It was in this moment that Kisuke realized just how inept he really was at this sort of emotional thing, how much he really didn't know. It was hard to accept that he, quite possibly the most intelligent person in the world, was an absolute maladroit when it came to the simplest human contact. He could tell you how a person would react, how they would behave under any set of circumstances…but to actually be involved in those circumstances seemed to throw him for a proverbial loop.

"I thought it would be easier for you," he tried to explain lamely, not able to pull the right words up. "I'm not the sort of person that's easy to explain. You shouldn't have to feel uncomfortable because I'm around."

He looked away, no longer able to meet Ichigo's eyes. The words were pouring out now, Kisuke unable to stop them, his usual reserve buried somewhere beneath the pain in Ichigo's voice and his own raging confusion.

"Not only are we both men but…I'm a few _centuries_ older than you. I don't want you to have to defend yourself to others because of me--"

He was cut off by Ichigo's hand slapping itself over his mouth, the redhead drawing their gazes together again. "Shut up!" he practically growled, making Kisuke's eyes widen. Before he could respond Ichigo continued, his voice getting louder. "I don't care about any of that! Don't you think I knew what I was doing when I got into this? I'm not stupid Kisuke!"

The hand was withdrawn from his face, but Urahara didn't speak. Ichigo had that look in his eye, the one Urahara first remembered seeing in the training room beneath the shop, that resolve that could crush the world. It left him stunned, a little bewildered, a bit proud, and all together thunderstruck.

"You're always so guilty!" Ichigo persisted, shaking Urahara's shoulders. "You always think you've done something wrong! This isn't wrong Kisuke…"

Ichigo paused, his face becoming pained again. He seemed at a loss for words, as though he'd said everything he wanted to say and now couldn't think of what to do. In the end he leaned forward, pressing his hot cheek against Kisuke's shoulder, closing his eyes. A slow breath against his neck made Kisuke shiver as Ichigo's voice came out slightly broken. "This isn't wrong…"

Urahara blinked, arms now hanging loosely at his sides, mouth opening and closing a few times dumbly. When had Ichigo gotten so smart? When had he gone from a rash teenager into a mature young man capable of such emotional stability? It made Kisuke smile, reaching up to trail his fingers through the orange spikes before taking a deep breath.

"You know what Ichigo," he whispered, feeling the redhead stir beside him. "You're right."

"I am?" Ichigo raised his head up, a small smirk gracing his features. "You mean, for once you're actually admitting that I'm right?"

"Don't gloat too much," Kisuke said, boldly reaching forward and brushing their lips together. "I'm not one to allow this sort of thing to happen too often."

Ichigo chuckled quietly, curling into his body with an almost purr. The tension that lingered between them was draining away, leaving the air feeling cooler, easier to breath. Kisuke nuzzled against Ichigo's head, resisting the urge to sigh happily as that would have been terribly unmanly of him. He had an image to maintain after all.

"No more hiding, right?" Ichigo asked, his voice happier…almost hopeful.

"Correct."

They sat together that way for a few minutes, neither speaking, the only communication being conveyed by slow caresses across slightly moist skin. Urahara hadn't noticed due to the situation (and his own angst over said situation), but the night was actually quite warm. Warm enough that he was starting to imagine a cool bath might be rather nice. Maybe some ice cubes floating around in there…a choice rubber ducky or two…

"What did you get me for my birthday?" Ichigo questioned suddenly, as though he'd just thought of it and couldn't wait to ask.

Kisuke laughed abruptly, falling backwards onto the wooden porch and bringing Ichigo with him so that the younger man lay draped across his body. Without a word he reached into his green haori and pulled out an old and worn picture, handing it to Ichigo with a grin. It was a photo taken back when he was a captain, smiling in front of the Institute on its opening day, Hiyori punching Hirako in the background. Ichigo had often asked what he'd been like when he was in Soul Society, and nearly every time he had somehow dodged the question. Too many painful memories, too many questions he didn't want to answer.

So in a way, this was like allowing Ichigo into his past…somewhere he hadn't allowed anyone else to be for a very long time. A free pass into who he once was, if that was what Ichigo truly wanted.

Ichigo looked at it intently, bringing the photo to his face, before turning it over and smiling in a strange way. Finding himself puzzled by the expression, Urahara nearly asked him if he liked it or not, wanting clarification. But before he could get even the first words out, he found his lips forcefully covered by Ichigo's, his breath stolen and all words lost in the passionate exchange.

Letting his arms come up around Ichigo's back, he brought their bodies flush together, rolling so that he was on top…the photo coming out of Ichigo's grasp to gently flutter to the ground…

_For You…Evergreen. Yours, Kisuke._


	4. Ume

**Short Author's Note: I know I keep promising that i'll write that fourth chapter of Sour Apple, but the boys won't jump in the sack together until I give them some of these scenes. They're simply DEMANDING it. So here they are. More forthcoming. Hope you enjoy!**

The air smelt of orange blossoms, warm and humid, as it blew Ichigo's hair back from his face. Blessed relief. This June had proven to be a particularly balmy one and a fine line of sweat was already beading up at his hairline, irritating the skin. He wiped it away with the tips of his fingers before turning his head to look out the open car window. Though he'd seen this particular scenery many times before, he knew that he most likely wouldn't remember a thing about it. He never did. The buildings, the orchards, the rolling hills covered with some kind of strange clover…he wasn't really paying any attention to it.

His mind was, as it always was this time of year, somewhere else entirely.

A quiet rustling from beside him drew his attention away from the landscape to his companion who was currently looking somewhat confusedly at the map in his hand. Kisuke had been amazingly quiet the entire trip, only speaking when it was absolutely necessary and keeping the car ride smooth. Now he was slowing said vehicle down to stare at the roadmap, biting his bottom lip in a way that made him seem much younger than he actually was. The gesture caused Ichigo to smile despite himself, shaking his head before reaching out to point down at their current location.

"Take the next right," he murmured, trailing his fingers over the back of Urahara's hand. In the past his family had always gone to his mother's grave by train, thereby making knowing the way by car unnecessary. But since he'd asked Kisuke to take the trip with him this year it unfortunately presented them with a unique problem. Ichigo, as of yet, was not in possession of a car. To that end they'd decided to take the older man's minivan (not exactly cool, but it would work in a pinch), going a week early so that the two of them could visit Masaki in private. Ichigo had wanted the first time he introduced the blonde to his mother to be alone…though he wasn't certain why.

"Thank you," Urahara replied sheepishly, linking their fingers and giving Ichigo's hand a small squeeze before looking back at the road. Though he would never tell him, Ichigo had been secretly astonished to see how good of a driver Urahara actually was. He had been half-expecting the eccentric man to either be a speed-demon or get distracted and land them in a ditch somewhere. So it had been a pleasant surprise when the entire two-hour trip was remarkably without incident (save for hitting that pothole the size of a child's swimming pool early in the morning).

Quiet settled heavy in the car, broken only by the purr of the engine (Urahara had modified it so that it ran on spirit energy) and the soft whoosh of passing automobiles on the other side of the road. He hadn't even bothered to turn on the radio, finding it more of an annoyance than a calming agent today. It was strange, but as much as he loved his mother, he found that most of the time he wanted nothing more than to have the visits to her grave be over quickly. They hurt…and Ichigo was not fond of emotional pain.

Suddenly Urahara cleared his throat, once more drawing Ichigo's eyes to his face. He seemed as though he might be attempting to say something, mouth opening and closing a few times, though the redhead was bewildered as to what it might be. Of course, there was the obvious conversation, but so far Kisuke had been avoiding that topic.

Another squeeze at his hand and the quiet was finally broken. "Are you all right?" Urahara questioned, his voice small and reserved, not like his usually boisterous tone at all. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Ichigo smiled wistfully, rubbing soothing circles against the skin of Kisuke's hand. This was the third time that the older man had posed that particular question. The first time being directly after Ichigo had asked Urahara to accompany him to his mother's grave, the second time while they were eating breakfast outside at one of the small restaurants in the countryside. And just like previously, Ichigo's response was the same: a simple smile and a kiss to the blonde's cheek before waving away his concerns.

"Stop asking," he said with a small laugh. "If I wanted to change my mind I would have done it already."

"All right," Kisuke murmured.

The rest of the ride seemed to go by more quickly, Ichigo's nerves fraying the closer they got to the memorial site. Eventually he found himself squeezing Kisuke's hand so hard that he heard the other man grunt quietly, Ichigo giving him an apologetic look before releasing the blonde's (slightly purple) fingers. He hated this…hated it! So why did he keep torturing himself year after year by coming here? The question seemed like a simple one, easily answered, but when Ichigo looked inside himself for the solution all he found was his mother's eyes…so dead and lifeless…staring at him…through him…

"I think we're here," Urahara's voice broke through his thoughts, startling him so much that it felt like his heart had jumped into his throat. What the hell?!

Ichigo forced himself to sit unmoving for a moment to wrestle with himself, trying to force his tense muscles to relax. He had to get it together if he wasn't going to embarrass himself in front of Kisuke. Not that the older man would probably mind…after all…they were a couple now, right? Couples were supposed to rely on each other for strength during their weaker moments. Lean on each other. So why did he feel so self-conscious about Urahara seeing him in such a pathetic state?

The car door opened beside him, a pale hand reaching out to grab his arm and unceremoniously drag him from the car. Before he could protest he was drawn into a warm hug, Kisuke's arms wrapping around his body tightly while their cheeks brushed together tenderly. The embrace accomplished its goal, soothing him, calming his turbulent emotions enough to let him breath again. His own hands moved slowly down Urahara's back, mapping the planes of muscle clutching at the blonde's shirt for the briefest of instants before pulling away.

"Come on Kurosaki-kun," Urahara said, walking in the direction of the small road that led into the graves. "Let's go talk to Masaki-san and then I'll take you out for dinner someplace quiet, hmm?"

"Okay," Ichigo replied, going out in front so that he could lead the way. "You know, after I found out that you and my dad used to know each other…I kind of thought that you'd have met my mom before."

He glanced over his shoulder to see Kisuke's expression change marginally, his eyes flickering and the set of his shoulder's squaring, the muscle in his jaw getting a little bit more tense. It was during these observations that Ichigo realized how very in tune he was with the older man…how much things had changed. Back when they'd first met, he would have never noticed such a tiny change in Kisuke's demeanor, wouldn't have had the faintest idea how he was reacting to a statement at all. Now it seemed as though the blonde's every motion was easily read, laid bare for Ichigo to see.

"You did, didn't you?" Ichigo said pulling Urahara to his side. "I figured as much. Were you friends?"

"No," Urahara said, obviously not willing to put any effort into hiding things further as they continued to walk up the steep hills leading to Masaki's grave. "I only met her once in passing. I don't even think you could really call it a meeting since we never spoke…more like a glance."

"Oh," Ichigo replied, a little disappointed. He would have been lying if he hadn't said that he kind of wished they were friends so he could hear more about her. He'd always been curious about the kind of person his mother had been as a younger woman. Was she rebellious? Hotheaded? Quiet? All he knew of her was from his childhood memories, obviously not objective due to his adoration and love. It would have been interesting to hear someone else's perspective on the personality he could only remember in flashes.

Urahara glanced at him with an unreadable expression. "I'm sorry Kurosaki-kun," he whispered, as though to speak any louder would break the fragile peace that was around them. "I'm not much help, I know."

"Shut up," Ichigo smiled, pushing the blonde's shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

Looking up towards the top of the hill, his smile faltered a little when he realized that his mother's grave was now plainly in sight. His eyebrow began twitching as he pondered the fact that he hadn't really planned what he was going to do once he got up there with Kisuke. It wasn't as though he'd written some big speech or anything…what was he supposed to say?

_'Hello mom! I've brought a visitor this year! Meet Kisuke, my three hundred year old, super-genius, shinigami boyfriend whom I'm pretty damn sure I'm in love with but haven't told him yet because I'm a big freakin' coward. Oh! And did I mention I'm bisexual?'_

Oh yeah…that was really going to go over well wasn't it?

"Um…Ichigo?" Urahara tapped him on the shoulder. "We just walked by Masaki-san's grave…"

"Shit," Ichigo turned on his heel and stalked back over to the grave, pausing before his face fell a bit. The grave was exactly as he remembered it, plain and unadorned, pristine…just like he remembered his mother to be. He brushed a few dead leaves from the top of the stone and sighed. What to do now? Kisuke was looking at him in an expectant sort of way, as though Ichigo was going to lead this little introduction of sorts.

When he couldn't come up with something he heard Urahara chuckle softly beside him and looked over. The older man was bending at the waist, his eyes closed and a small green charm in his hands that he placed on the headstone with care. "Thank you for your son, Kurosaki Masaki," he murmured, still bent over. His voice was octaves lower than normal, bearing the tone it only took on when he was being very serious. The timbre sent a shiver working its way up Ichigo's spine, making his breath catch almost painfully in his throat. "I will do my best to make him as happy for the rest of his life as you did at the beginning."

With that Kisuke stood to his full height, turning towards him with a small smile before brushing pale fingers across Ichigo's cheekbone. "I'll leave you alone for a bit. Call me if you want company, okay?"

Ichigo watched Kisuke walk away with a strange trembling feeling in the bottom of his stomach. It was the same feeling that had been there for months, growing each time the blonde would do something that caused Ichigo to instinctively react. It was an emotion that Ichigo was unfamiliar with, a sensation that was at once intensely painful while being pleasurably addictive at the same time. It had only been in the last few weeks that he'd started to fully understand what it was, his mind wrapping around the idea that the man he'd chosen to date was quite possibly…

"Mom," he said suddenly, turning towards her grave and clenching his fists at his sides. This was why he hated dealing with his emotions…hated letting them control him in any way. They were so confusing! No matter what you did, they never seemed to coalesce! "What would you tell me if you were here?"

Again he glanced over at Kisuke who was currently quite a distance away, smoking idly on his kiseru while looking curiously at a few random headstones. The older man seemed to feel that he was being watched and looked up, meeting Ichigo's gaze for a moment with a questioning expression before turning his attention back down to whatever he'd found so interesting. Ichigo swallowed heavily, running a hand through his hair, sitting down in front of his mother's grave with his legs crossed.

"I think," he said softly, staring down at his own lap. "I think I'm…"

"I don't know mom!" he exclaimed, a bit louder than he'd intended, casting his glance around to make sure no one had seen his ridiculous outburst. He lowered his voice, noticing that it was quivering a bit, fighting against the swell of his emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him. "I've never been in love before! How am I supposed to know that's what this is?"

He pulled his knees up to his chest and set his face down on them, wrapping his arms around his legs. He would _not_ cry. No way. That was about the most girly, pathetic, wretched thing he could do right now. No matter how badly he might want to do it, he was not going to give in to the urge. Nope.

"I wish you were here to help me out," he whispered, letting all his breath go in one great rush. "Goat-face isn't exactly the sort of person to confide in about my relationship, you know?"

Suddenly remembering something he'd brought with him, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled photograph, unbending the corner before looking down at it nostalgically. It had been winter, the Shoten was nestled in a soft blanket of white, and Kisuke had been supervising Ururu as she used the snow blower to clear off the back porch. Ichigo had come out a few minutes after that, reaching around Kisuke's chest to hand him a quickly cooling cup of earl gray before nestling his face between the older man's shoulder blades, arms wrapped contentedly around Urahara's waist. He had thought they were alone for the moment, that being the sole reason he'd given in to the affectionate urges, only to find out later that Rukia had taken a picture precisely at that instant. And of course Rukia, being the strange pervert she is, had shown it to…well…just about everybody.

Though he'd been completely humiliated at the time…he had to admit…the picture was good. And the emotion it called forth in his chest was all too real. Affection…desire…fidelity…a caring that went far beyond the way he felt about others. Love? The corners of Ichigo's mouth pulled upwards as he ran his fingertips along the glossy surface, leaning forward to put the picture on his mother's stone. Love.

"I'm in love with him," he said, his voice steadier now, more sure. "And for the life of me I have no idea how to say it."

Ichigo sat quietly for a while, mulling things over in his head, barely noticing the passage of time until the shadows around him began to grow and he found the air blowing more coolly across his face. Evening already? Head shooting up, he glanced around nervously, not finding Kisuke anywhere in the general vicinity. Had the older man gotten bored and wandered off somewhere? It wasn't unlike the blonde to get preoccupied and forget what he'd been doing.

"Kisuke?" he called, standing up and turning around in a circle. Urahara was nowhere to be found. "Kisuke?!"

Moving to go back down the hill, he paused mid-step and placed two fingers to his lips, turning to press them against his mother's grave before walking away. If Urahara knew what was good for him, he'd better not have driven away and left Ichigo to walk the entire way home. Practical jokes were something that his significant other liked to pull, even if most of the time they were really only amusing to him. Dammit…where was he?!

"Urahara!" his voice was growing steadily louder, and infinitely more annoyed, the longer he went without finding Kisuke. "Where the hell did you go?"

A very loud, very _familiar_, yawn sounded from above him, causing him to look upwards to the source of the noise. There he found Kisuke, eyes glazed over with the remnants of sleep, arms crossed over his chest, looking down at him. Blonde strands were sticking up all over the place, even more unruly than usual, falling over gray irises in a way that Ichigo was tempted to describe as…cute. When those same cloudy eyes blinked blearily at him and he grinned, Ichigo was sure. Definitely cute.

"What are you doing up there?" Ichigo questioned with a short laugh. "I was starting to think you'd left me behind."

"Never Kurosaki-kun," Kisuke yawned again, jumping down from the branch he was currently residing on to come up close to Ichigo and rub their cheeks together slowly. "Did you have a nice visit?"

Ichigo hesitated briefly, looking up at the blonde. "Yeah…I guess," he answered finally, rising up to kiss at Urahara's lips chastely. When he pulled away there must have been something in his eyes however, because the older man's face fell rather abruptly, the grogginess washed away by concern.

"Are you sure?" Kisuke cocked his head to the side. "Did something happen?"

Ichigo sat still, warring with himself over what to say. Sitting with his mother may have helped a little, but he still wasn't sure how to tell Kisuke the truth. Hopefully, with an important moment like that, it would eventually just smack him over the head like a frying pan…right? Things like that could only happen when they were meant to happen; Ichigo knew at least that much. He'd probably just have to be patient and wait.

Not one of his better traits…but eh…

"Nah," he smiled, reaching his arms up around Kisuke's neck and drawing their lips together. Though the older man was hesitant at first (he was probably still really confused) he eventually melted into the kiss, drawing Ichigo closer with a satisfied sigh. They drew apart slowly; Ichigo raining tiny kisses across Kisuke's jaw before laying his forehead on the blonde's shoulder. "I'm all right. I'm hungry though…"

"Oh good!" Kisuke laughed, putting his arm around Ichigo's shoulder to guide him back towards the car. "I was starting to waste away to nothing up in that tree…look at me…I'm practically skin and bones! I'm far too handsome to be so thin."

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo pushed the blonde's arm off and punched him smartly in the shoulder, grinning when the older man put on a tremendous show of being hurt. Without speaking he took Kisuke's hand and smiled, finding it much easier to just enjoy his partner's company than to worry about how to say things that (for now) were best left unsaid.

"You're far too handsome to be so full of yourself too. Learn some humility!"

"I'll do my best Kurosaki-san…perhaps I'll take lessons from you, patron saint of modesty that you are."

"I can make you walk home Kisuke…"


	5. Honey Wheat

**Hey everyone! I'm back again! This week we have a lime...a tasty tasty lime. It's my warm up before I write the lemon that should be coming on _Sour Apple_ in a few weeks. (Still have one or two short ficlets to go in this side story arc though). I'm a little rusty at the feel of writing sexual situations, but I think you'll enjoy it!**

**On with the lime!!**

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOOXOXOX

Soft evening light was trickling in through the window, catching the sides of a clear water glass that sat on the counter and littering the kitchen walls with tiny, rippling shards of color. Kisuke quietly closed the refrigerator door and picked the cup up, bringing the ice water to his lips while his bare feet padded across the cool tile floors. The house was empty today, the sounds of the children's arguing absent from the hallways and Tessai's strange mumblings not present in the shop. It had been a perfect day to spend alone with Ichigo…

Speaking of said young man, Urahara smiled as he looked out the back door to see him lounging on his side in the grass, rubbing at his nose absentmindedly. Ichigo's eyes were closed, head lying on his upper arm as a steady line of sweat ran down his temple and across his cheek. He looked hot, and Kisuke didn't mean that in the attractive way (though that was obviously true). Even his t-shirt was sweaty, clinging to his muscles in a way that couldn't be comfortable.

Summer was taking its last gasps in the early days of September, but that didn't mean that the heat didn't wrap around him like a wet blanket as Kisuke made his way out onto the porch. Almost instantly he began to feel himself sweat, opening up his fan and waving it in front of his face a few times to alleviate the burst of warmth against his skin. Though he'd originally started using it to cover up his facial expressions (thereby making himself seem more mysterious) there was something to be said for always having a cooling agent on hand. Not to mention it was cute. Yep…it was hard to resist a handsome, perverted shopkeeper with a fan and a long sword.

Urahara crossed his legs in the grass with a peaceful sigh, moving the fan it in front of Ichigo's face to watch the orange locks blow backwards as the corners of his mouth perked upwards. Kisuke's own smile became mischievous when a hand was placed on his thigh, long fingers kneading the fabric and the muscle underneath in a way that wasn't all together innocent. If he hadn't been so relaxed he might have made some sort of perverted comment or "accidentally" inclined his hips so that Ichigo's hand brushed against his crotch.

As it stood however, he was too drugged with heat and tranquility to really push the issue.

"Mmm," Ichigo practically purred, scooting a little closer to Kisuke so that his nose brushed the older man's pants. His voice was drowsy and soft, somewhat like the delicate light of the sunset that danced across his skin, making it glow like honey wheat laying low in the fields. "Nice day."

"I agree," Kisuke concurred, continuing to fan Ichigo's face while running his free hand through the slightly damp orange tresses. The redhead's response was encouraging, pushing his head further into Urahara's hand, trying to get more of the gentle caress. For someone who was usually such a prude, Ichigo was surprisingly insatiable when it came to affection. He enjoyed it…despite how he might say otherwise. And, of course, Kisuke would never tire of giving it to him…despite how much he might tease.

"Are you sure you don't want to go inside in the air-conditioning?" Kisuke questioned, noticing that the younger man really was rather soaked with sweat. Ichigo merely shook his head, eyebrows coming together when Urahara's hand slowed in his hair. So greedy! Kisuke couldn't help but cease the motion all together, earning a very disgruntled sound as the brown eyes cracked slowly open.

"Why'd you stop?" Ichigo scowled, crawling up and putting his chin on Urahara's thigh, turning his irritated gaze up to Kisuke's face. For a moment Urahara wasn't exactly sure what to say, but the longer he looked down at the bottom lip jutting out in annoyance, the absolute pouty face…the more his mind turned decidedly lewd. Glancing to the glittering cup of ice water sitting near his leg, he focused his attention back on the young man practically in his lap.

"Because I just had a thought Ichigo," he replied, dipping his finger into said water and smearing a wet line across Ichigo's eyebrows. "You look so uncomfortably hot down there…I thought perhaps you might want to take off your shirt."

Quickly Ichigo's hand came up and smacked Kisuke hard upside the arm, his own hand coming up to rub at the stinging area before looking down at the redhead in an affronted way. Was it something he said? "Ow! What was that for!? I'm thinking of your well-being Kurosaki-kun!"

"No," Ichigo countered, voice amused, face breaking out in a tiny grin. His eyes were already closing again, slowly twisting his body to lay his cheek once more against the grass with a sigh of pleasure. He was the picture of contentment, which was unusual considering how angst-ridden the young man could be. "You're thinking about devious ways to get me out of my clothes. It won't work you know."

Couldn't argue there…

"Now I admit, usually you'd be right," Kisuke laughed, poking Ichigo's cheek and watching the orange eyebrows come together. "But really…I've seen you half naked before. Hell in your bankai outfit most of your belly and chest shows anyway…"

When the younger man didn't seem to be responding Kisuke's bottom lip came out, leaning down to run his nose along the teenager's neck to get his attention. He smiled softly when small goose bumps broke out on the smooth skin, a shiver running down Ichigo's body. "Please Ichigo? I promise that will be the entirety of what you take off this evening…please with sugar?"

Ichigo sighed, pushing himself up abruptly to fix Kisuke with a stare, his expression shifting through emotions as though he were weighing his options before making a decision. Wise boy. Then, with a defeated roll of his eyes, he pulled his shirt up over his head, exposing line upon line of beautiful abdominal muscles to Urahara's ravenous gaze. No matter how many bad decisions he may have made in life, Kisuke was certain that the gods must have loved him to adorn him with the affections of such a glorious youth. Truly he was a blessed man.

"There," Ichigo said sleepily, tossing the sweat-soaked shirt into Kisuke's face before plopping himself back down on the ground. "Happy now?"

"Extremely," Kisuke breathed, swallowing thickly, letting the shirt fall from his suddenly nerveless fingers. If the sight of Ichigo's chest had been welcome, the view of his back was…overwhelming. From the curves of his shoulder blades to the plane of his spine, each muscle was a masterpiece, perfectly proportioned. Urahara had to look away briefly, his fingers tingling with the need to reach out and touch at the flawless skin, closing his eyes to get a hold on himself before he did something foolish. What had he been thinking, asking Ichigo to take off his clothes like that?!

When he opened his eyes they once again landed on the glass near his leg, the ice cubes floating in endless circles around the water. Cocking his head to the side, Kisuke felt the corner of his lips quirk upward, tongue coming out to brush at his top lip. Instinctively his hand reached out, pulling out a partially melted cube and running it between his fingers, watching the water drip to the ground. Ichigo was probably going to kill him…but he really was having a hard time convincing himself not to do it.

"Hey!" Ichigo practically shouted as the first drop hit his skin, squirming and glaring daggers at Urahara over his shoulder. "Knock it off!"

Before Ichigo could protest further Kisuke was on him, legs spread to either side of Ichigo's hips, sitting firmly on the younger man's butt. Laughing darkly, Urahara leaned forward, putting all his weight on the pliant body beneath him and moving his mouth down beside Ichigo's ear. "Relax," he whispered, letting his tongue come out to graze the ear near his lips, nipping playfully at it and enjoying the delicious fidget the younger man bestowed in return. "I'm going to cool you off…"

"Stop, you pervert…" Ichigo complained less forcefully, voice slightly breathy, his hips bucking up to attempt to knock Urahara off his body. The push only succeeded in brushing them together however, making Kisuke's eyes slam shut harshly against the rush of friction. Breathing suddenly became harder to do as he realized that keeping control of himself was going to be more difficult than he'd originally imagined. He hadn't counted on Ichigo's response being so arousing.

Deciding to go forward with his plan anyway, he sat back up to his full height and squeezed his thighs together to keep Ichigo still, pushing the ice cube firmly against the top of the redhead's backbone. Instantly Ichigo began cursing, his body rocking as his arms tried in vain to reach backwards and grab at Urahara's hands. Not deterred, Kisuke ran the melting ice further down the tanned spine, grinning when Ichigo's jerks began to lessen and soft pants made his back rise and fall more quickly. Was he giving up? Or was it just starting to feel good?

"That's cold Kisuke," Ichigo almost whined, wiggling his hips back and forth beneath Kisuke's crotch. The act sent another shockwave up the older man's spine, a heat settling in his gut that had nothing to do with the weather. His eyelids were heavy now as he leaned downward again, unable to stop his teeth from sinking into the back of Ichigo's neck. He practically growled when the teenager gasped and shuddered below him, a sense of possessiveness washing over him, exhilarating in its intensity. The redhead's skin always had the same flavour, only this time it was tainted with sweat and a little bit of dirt. Almost a filthy taste…one that Urahara found strangely erotic.

"Stop wiggling like that Ichigo," his voice was low, grinding the words out between the teeth that still held the younger man's flesh between them. "Or this won't stay playful for much longer."

Pulling slowly away from Ichigo's neck, he watched curiously as brown eyes glanced over a bare shoulder, giving Kisuke a look that could only be described as purely evil. What was he up to? Seconds passed as they continued to stare, henna into rainy gray, until with a smirk the younger man began rolling his hips in a gentle, sensual rhythm, his breath catching quietly. Perfect white teeth came out soon afterwards; catching that bottom lip so enthralled Kisuke in an obviously teasing way. Devious scamp. The pure eroticism of the gyration made Kisuke involuntarily cry out, pushing one hand on Ichigo's back to steady himself while wondering vaguely when the younger man had grown so bold. What kind of beast had he awakened in that prim and proper mind?

The pace was slow at first, leisurely and unhurried, but soon it was picking up speed, Urahara pressing his forehead against the redhead's back with a soft, almost painful sound. If he wasn't careful, this would get out of control quickly. It had been so long since he'd been with a lover…so long in fact that even this slight contact was easily enough to make his cock harden instantly and press sharply into the body below. He wasn't so stupid as to think that Ichigo couldn't feel it, and he had the sneaking suspicion that the younger man was using it to his advantage.

"Kurosaki-kun," he groaned, letting his tongue come out to lap at the young man's skin, licking at the water he'd placed there a few moments before. It was tepid already, heated by the setting sun overhead and the warmth of Ichigo's skin. Luscious. Inspired by the soft moan he heard from underneath, he moved his mouth further down, closer to Ichigo's waistband, teasing the flesh he found there with subtle nibbles. He remained there momentarily, abusing the skin friskily, until he felt Ichigo arch his body into the touch, gasping out his name in a tone that went straight to Kisuke's cock. Only then did Urahara flatten his tongue against the small of his back, working with deliberate slowness up the redhead's spine, halting every few centimeters to nip and suck at random patches of skin.

Ichigo was writhing now; Urahara could see where his knuckles were going white against the grass he gripped tightly between his fingers. The reaction made Kisuke a little proud, taking satisfaction in his ability to make his lovers scream without ever even touching the more intimate areas of their bodies. His gaze wandered back to Ichigo's face, drinking in the sight of the faint blush staining the tanned skin, the teenager's cheek firmly pressed against the ground, eyes closed, mouth partially open as puffs of air rushed out in gasps. The scene was so sexy it caused Kisuke to hesitate in his actions, mouth pressed in an open kiss against Ichigo's back as he stared captivated into the lustful copper gaze now fixed solely on him. If he'd ever witnessed anything so beautiful…he couldn't remember it now.

Unable to stop, he twisted himself to the side until his lips came into semi-contact with Ichigo's, gasping when the redhead's still-rolling hips sent another wave of pleasure through his nerves. The kiss was sloppy and wet, their mouths barely able to meet with the younger man still on his stomach, but Urahara made it work despite the awkward angle. He could feel a faint line of saliva trail down the redhead's cheek, the exchange more a dance of tongues meshing passionately than mouths pressing together. It had to be, quite possibly, the dirtiest kiss of his entire life…and it was sublime.

"I want," Ichigo gasped, his tongue coming out to lick against Kisuke's wantonly. "I want to kiss you…please Kisuke…"

Urahara's response to the plea was immediate, turning Ichigo over roughly and pushing their lips together hard enough that teeth clacked together a little. The long legs beneath him opened wider to allow him to rest in between, the younger man's hands dancing up his back, snaking down his arms, teasing inside his shirt, and eventually finding purchase on his ass to pull their groins together. Ichigo, to Urahara's delight, was just as hard as he was, ready and seemingly very willing to go. Time seemed to slow as they locked eyes until hesitantly Ichigo began rolling his hips again, fingers digging into Kisuke's upper thighs almost painfully.

The world was spinning slower now, each passing second encompassing what felt like a hundred lifetimes within the short span of time. Urahara could feel everything…Ichigo's lips silken against his own, their bodies pushing somewhat frantically against each other, the sound of cloth scraping, Ichigo moaning into his mouth, the feel of the redhead's hair caught tight in his fingers…dirty, sensual, sullied, exquisite…everything he could ever want.

"Ichigo," Kisuke whimpered softly, breaking the kiss and pressing his face into the redhead's neck, biting at the skin there until it began to turn a light purplish color. As the skin threatened to break under his teeth Ichigo's whole body bucked upwards, a throaty cry spilling from his lips.

It was then, upon hearing that impassioned cry, that Urahara realized two things. One, they were still outside where anyone could interrupt them (not good)…and two, that this wasn't how he wanted their first time together to be. Granted, his body was screaming otherwise, his cock throbbing agonizingly and his blood rushing so fast that he was having trouble thinking clearly…but he couldn't do this. Not here in the grass like two beasts rutting in the dirt. Ichigo deserved better…

His hands shot out to catch the younger man's hips, stopping them from moving as he pulled his mouth away from Ichigo's neck with a liquid pop. His self-control wavered for the briefest of moments as he heard the disappointed moan from below, closing his eyes so he wouldn't be tempted to give into the crestfallen expression that he knew would be there. Ichigo would thank him for this later when things were more perfect…when the younger man wouldn't look back on his first time with the regret that it hadn't been right.

"Why not?" Ichigo whispered, his fingers still clinging to Urahara's thighs, though with much less force. Kisuke didn't respond right away, still too busy with bringing his breathing back under control and calming his body down enough so that he could think clearly. Eventually he felt Ichigo lean upward, a small lick to his cheek indicating that the redhead wanted his undivided attention. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Kisuke turned his face to the question, surprised when he saw how concerned Ichigo was underneath all that pent up sexual frustration. There was depth in that brown gaze that stunned him, made him breathless all over again. Ichigo's own breathing was still choppy and uneven, body shaking violently against Urahara's own, his skin still a bit flushed. Worry over the younger man's condition prompted him to wrap his arms back around the smaller body and roll them both onto their sides. Nothing was worse, in Urahara's opinion, than getting all worked up and then having the entire thing deflate on you. Can you say 'blue balls'? Ichigo didn't protest, allowing him to rain kisses in the orange hair in an effort to calm the younger man's obviously fraying nerves.

"I'm fine," Urahara soothed, rubbing his hands in comforting circles around Ichigo's back. Regretfully he kissed the swollen lips so close to his own, willing the teen to understand the intentions behind his refusal. "But I can't do this right now."

Ichigo looked up at him curiously, a pale orange eyebrow rising as the younger man settled more firmly in his embrace. Finally a small smile pulled as his lips and he poked Urahara lightly in the stomach with a small snicker. "Are you like…having erectile dysfunction or something? I mean…I know you're old and all…"

Kisuke's mouth fell open at that, trying to decide if Ichigo was being serious or not. "I-Ichigo!" he stammered, closing his mouth only to have it fall open again. He must have looked rather ridiculous because the teenager began laughing in earnest, the sound soft and happy. At least he wasn't angry about stopping in the middle of their little frottage session. "I do **not** need Viagra! What, you couldn't feel it pressing into that tight little rump of yours?"

For emphasis he gave Ichigo's butt a small squeeze, delighting in the gasp he got in return. "Little smartass," Kisuke purred, kissing Ichigo's cheek. "But no…I just don't want you to lose your virginity like an dog in the backyard. Unless that's all right with you?"

Ichigo's face fell for a moment, as if he were finally realizing where exactly he was and what he'd been doing. When he finally grasped the situation his eyes went wide as cup saucers, his body becoming tight in Kisuke's arms. "Um…no…not really…I just…" he began, a faint blush breaking out on his cheeks as his words faded away. The rest needed no explanation. Urahara was more than aware that the younger man had been practically consumed by the deluge of hormones assaulting his senses. It wasn't as though he'd never been young once…and hormones were something that not even his substantial intellect had been able to overcome.

"I know Ichigo, you don't have to clarify," he smiled, scooting his hips a few inches away from the ones beside him so that their more intimate areas weren't brushing against each other anymore. The younger man sighed softly, face relaxing as the storm between them calmed down, leaving him looking exhausted. "I can completely empathize…"

"You could have, you know…done it…and I wouldn't have stopped you," Ichigo murmured, suddenly looking very serious.

"You act like I don't know this…you can't resist my charms Kurosaki-kun!" Urahara laughed, watching Ichigo's expression go from very seriously grave to very seriously annoyed all in the matter of three seconds. The reaction made the laughter bubble further up in Kisuke's chest, drawing Ichigo close again despite his initial protests. There was nothing he liked more than getting a rise out of the redhead…it was one of life's greatest pleasures to be sure.

"You act like you don't know that I'll kick your balls up into your sternum," Ichigo threatened in what Urahara thought _had_ to be his best scary voice, even though it was muffled by the fact that his face was pressed into Kisuke's chest. All it needed was that weird underwater effect that wearing his hollow mask gave it and everything would have been perfect.

"Don't damage equipment that you'll eventually grow to love," Kisuke raised an eyebrow, his laughter dying down though his smile wasn't. "You should be thanking me for my self-restraint, not threatening my manhood."

"I can't start thanking you until the shock wears off…seeing as how this has to be the first time you've shown any self-restraint around me at all," Ichigo said sarcastically, looking as though he were fighting laughter of his own.

"That wounded me Ichigo…I'm really hurt…"

"Not as much as me…I've never had blue balls before but this shit hurts like hell!"

And the ice cubes that originally started the whole ordeal slowly melted away, the cup laying forgotten in the grass as the two men gathered themselves back up and went inside to cool off. It was only when it got ran over by the lawnmower a few days later that Urahara even remembered it was there…and that was only because Tessai looked as though he were going to murder someone with glass shards sticking out of his apron like little knives.

Maybe next time he'd use that Captain Planet sippy cup instead…


	6. Tattered Stockings

**Hi again everyone! Happy Halloween! I decided to give you all a little treat since its one of my favorite holidays. And what better way to celebrate than with some pure, sweet smut with my favorite OTP? This is a PWP folks, hope you enjoy. **

* * *

Dressing up as a mummy for Halloween had been his most ingenious idea ever.

Yes, truly it had been a stroke of genius, ranking right behind the Hougyoku and that strange branch of quantum mechanics he invented when he was fourteen. Granted, the idea wasn't anything new, wasn't anything original, but the sheer practical use of this costume was what set it apart from other regalia. And, okay, maybe it was kind of hard to use the bathroom when you were wrapped up in a dozen layers of dyed muslin strips, but that didn't matter either…under the circumstances…

A loud peal of drunken laughter outside the coatroom he was currently hidden away in drew his attention momentarily, his unfocused gray eyes flicking towards the door warily. Had he remembered to lock it when the two of them had tumbled in? He couldn't remember. But even the danger of getting caught in such a compromising position wasn't enough to keep his concentration away from his current undertaking for long, and within seconds he was looking back down at the beautiful young man who was kneeling in front of him.

"Ichigo," he breathed out huskily, reaching forward to entangle his fingers in the bushy orange hair and tug his head closer. "Just like that…"

Ichigo smirked up at him, pink tongue glancing out to lick at the tip of Urahara's cock, brown eyes playful and dark. Prickling arousal rushed through Kisuke's body, making his thighs shake as trussed hands reached behind his cock to cup his balls, fondling them gently as his erection was unceremoniously consumed by Ichigo's mouth. And thus was the brilliance of the mummy costume…you had plenty of fabric to tie someone's hands up with.

The younger man's bound hands left Kisuke's skin and traveled downward; reaching awkwardly under the ruffled skirt he was wearing in an attempt to touch himself. The act made Kisuke grin through his pleasure, once more admiring Ichigo's creamy thighs protruding sexily from the feminine creation he had been forced to wear to this year's costume party. Kisuke couldn't have been luckier than when he'd won a running bet with his lover (yes, Yumichika _was_ straight) and demanded Ichigo wear a delicate white wedding dress with a sinfully short skirt, enjoying every single solitary sway of his barely concealed ass. Surely the gods were on Kisuke's side tonight.

Urahara tugged sharply at the end of the fabric tying Ichigo's wrists together, bringing them back out into the open with a groan. He didn't want the redhead getting overly excited and ending the moment too soon, even though Ichigo's stamina was surprisingly high for someone who was so new to sex. Regardless, Kisuke liked the feeling of power it gave him, the sensation that he could do pretty much whatever he wanted to the sweet creature blushing brilliantly between his legs. Of course, he'd never actually _do_ half the lusty, dirty things his mind envisioned, but there would be plenty of time for those kinks on a later day.

Teeth scraping teasingly against the underside of his cock brought his attention once more to the present, his hips bucking forward without consent, stretching Ichigo's mouth a little wider to accommodate the push. The younger man moaned around his flesh, his tied hands once more reaching up to wrap around the base of Kisuke's erection and stroke in conjunction with his bobbing head, drawing increasingly louder moans from Urahara's throat. Truly, the once-innocent youth was a natural at this. A born giver of insane pleasure.

"Draw me out…fuck…draw it out Ichigo." Kisuke's mummified head fell back against the wall with a thud, a few stray pieces of fabric falling over his eyes to partially block his vision. But that didn't prevent him from seeing the way Ichigo's cheeks were hollowed out in suction or the faint trembling of his hands against Urahara's cock. It didn't stop him from noticing the way the scent of sex was invading the air, the sweat beading underneath his mummy wrappings, or the pressure building up in his abdomen that signified his coming release. No, he could feel that just fine.

But he didn't want it to be over just yet…

"Stop," he whispered, pulling gently at Ichigo's hair in an attempt to get his point across. When the young man continued his assault on Kisuke's cock he jerked harder, cursing loudly at the sensation of teeth scraping up the entire length of his arousal before lips dislodged from his body with a wet, sticky pop. Fantastic.

Drawing Ichigo up to face him by the strips around his wrists, he fused their lips together with a wanton moan, dipping his tongue into the younger man's mouth without inhibition. Absolutely decadent. The more they did this, the more they indulged in each other's desires and needs, the more addicted Kisuke became. Each time he sunk his cock into Ichigo's tight body was like another piece of him dying off, each lusty cry from kiss-swollen lips driving him further into a place he knew he could never return from. It was the greatest intoxication, the ultimate deadly nightshade hanging heavy on the vine, beautiful and poisonous and compulsive.

He grabbed Ichigo's arms and looped them over his head, pleased when he was pulled flush against the younger man's body, his cock meeting the soft fabric of the lacy wedding dress clinging to Ichigo's belly. Kisuke's hands trailed teasingly down his back to dive under the skirt and knead at the silken-covered cheeks he found beneath it, smiling when his actions were met with a breathy moan. Fingernails digging sharply into the exposed skin, he gripped the flesh firmly in his hands and splayed Ichigo's ass wide, feeling a spasm go straight to his dick when he imagined himself plunging between the cheeks spread hotly in his palms.

"You make such a enchanting blushing bride," Kisuke whispered into Ichigo's mouth, licking at his bottom lip slowly before flipping them around and turning the younger man towards the wall.

"Maybe, but I'm not a virgin." Ichigo winked over his shoulder, spreading his stockinged legs a little wider, lips parted breathlessly. "Should I really be wearing white?"

Kisuke snickered and shook his head, going to his knees so that he was eye-level with what had to be the most magnificent ass the gods had ever created. His hands snaked up Ichigo's thighs, running his fingertips along the top of the thigh high stockings, snapping the straps of the garter belt that lay still hidden under the folds of fabric. They smacked smartly against the tanned skin with a satisfying slap, the flesh instantly turning a rosy pink where it was impacted. Kisuke's tongue came out soon afterwards to sooth the sting, all the while shoving the flowing ruffles of skirt up to his lover's waist and dragging the silk panties down to Ichigo's knees where he allowed them to remain.

"You can wear whatever you want," Kisuke murmured. Not giving the conversation any more of his attention, he leaned forward and ran his tongue across one of Ichigo's cheeks, biting down until there was a perfect imprint of his teeth in the skin. Though he wasn't an overly possessive man, he did love the sight of love bites all over the redhead's limbs. It gave him a wicked thrill to mark Ichigo as his own. _His_ Ichigo. His lover. His only one. The only person in the world he'd ever wanted so badly that he'd fuck them in the middle of a masquerade party with people standing probably twenty feet away. All inhibitions were thrown to the wind with this beautiful youth, and Kisuke could honestly say that he'd never felt younger.

Above him Ichigo cursed sharply, leaning his forehead against the wall, still-bound hands clenched tightly next to his face. Those same hands began to shake almost violently when Kisuke's tongue teased along the edge of his exposed opening, not wasting any time before pushing inside, coming back out, and sinking back in. Ichigo's knees buckled slightly when Urahara twisted his tongue against his inner muscles, reaching up to hold the younger man steady around the waist to prevent him from falling. Wouldn't do to have him breaking a leg or knocking himself out, would it?

Kisuke kept at it for another minute or so until Ichigo started turning into a shivering mess, making low desperate noises in his throat that could simply not be ignored and steadily rolling his ass against Urahara's face. Wanting to give his lover what he so desperately desired, Kisuke quickly coated his fingers with saliva and began pumping them into his waiting body, curling them to hit Ichigo's prostate with deliberate precision. Urgent moans filled the air, and before long one arm was no longer able to keep the lean body upright and Kisuke withdrew his fingers, standing up to turn Ichigo around and untie his wrists.

"Can't…can't believe we're doing this," Ichigo panted, allowing Kisuke to push his back firmly against the wall, their lips finding each other's in a wet, messy kiss. "Gonna get caught…"

"Don't care," Kisuke responded just as breathlessly, slapping at Ichigo's thighs a few times to urge him into raising his legs and allowing Kisuke to hold his weight. Before doing that however, Urahara reached down and grabbed his own cock, covering it with spit and precome, the friction of his palm against his leaking erection making him curse a few times. Closing his eyes, he sucked in numerous deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down lest he begin pumping himself in earnest and spoil the moment.

He needed to get inside Ichigo before he completely lost control of himself.

Long legs covered in delicate lace wrapped around his hips and clamped down like a vice, Ichigo's eyes showing the first bits of uncertainty that he'd displayed all night as he wrapped his arms around Urahara's neck. Kisuke leaned forward to kiss away the anxiety, nibbling gently at plum-colored lips as his hands moved to cup Ichigo's ass and angle his hips forward. It wasn't exactly easy holding such a tall man up in a position like this, but Urahara was determined to make it work, pinning the redhead against the wall with his body weight and splaying his fingers against his thighs for more leverage. It wasn't as though they were going to be in this stance long anyway…neither one of them was going to last.

Ichigo squirmed deliciously against him, rolling his hips in a gentle rhythm towards Kisuke's body and letting his head fall backwards against the wooden wall of the coatroom to expose the long lines of his unspoiled neck. Perfect surrender. Kisuke couldn't help but suck a hard line up that throat; the sinful offer too much to refuse, to enticing to pass up. When he pulled his lips away bruises were already blossoming across the once-flawless skin, Ichigo moaning on each breath, his voice a sweet melody of desire and longing. So magnificent.

The tiny pink roses that had been pinned in Ichigo's hair fell to the floor as his body was breached, the head of Urahara's cock slipping past the first tight ring of muscle and into the waiting heat beyond. Gods…so tight…so good. Loudly, Ichigo moaned out Kisuke's name, burying his face in his shoulder so that Urahara could feel the pulse of unsteady breath across his shoulder blade. He paused momentarily before pushing in further, not stopping until he felt his balls brush against the cheeks of Ichigo's ass.

"Fuck," Ichigo whispered, his voice caught somewhere between pleasure and pain. He lifted his head and smiled mischievously, pulling a few of the mummy bandages from Kisuke's head to wrap them around his eyes, completely cutting off Urahara's vision. At first he found himself slightly unbalanced, strangely out of sorts, but when he heard the filthy demands being whispered in his ear he threw aside his worry and slammed upwards, hearing the sound of Ichigo's pretty dress catching and tearing against the wood at his back.

It had often been said that when one sense is cut off that the rest heighten to take its place, and the same could be said here. Where once he might have looked at Ichigo's face flushed with passion, now he could only hear his voice, feel his body wound tight around his cock, smell the salty tang of precome smeared all over his thighs. Each thrust was enhanced by Kisuke's lack of eyesight, each blind kiss superior to the next as they moaned and grunted into each other's mouths. His skin felt hyper-sensitive, his fingertips able to feel each dip and groove of the lacy pantyhose that he ripped in his frantic haste to pull Ichigo's hips closer to his own, to feel that beautiful ass constrict around him as the boy cried out his pleasure again and again.

The sound of a high-heeled shoe falling to the ground made him smile into their kiss, Ichigo pulling his face away, his moans suddenly taking on a more vital tone. In response to what he knew was coming, Kisuke sped up his thrusts, the heavy bang of the younger man's back slamming into the wall fraying his control, making his stomach clench, building the pressure until he knew there wouldn't be anywhere to go but down, down, down into the swelling sea of pleasure they were both swimming in.

Without warning the body in his arms went rigid, and all at once he felt Ichigo's fingernails dig into the fabric of his back as his legs squeezed painfully around Kisuke's still-pumping hips, the warm spray of come splashing across the patches of exposed skin on his mummified belly. The feel of Ichigo's come was almost inhumanly hot, burning, smelling so strongly of tang and salt that Urahara thought surely he would choke on it, die on it, smell it buried in his nose forever. And his voice, Ichigo's voice, that wicked voice, it kept screaming, kept breaking, kept combining with the supple legs that drug him closer, faster, harder until finally Kisuke felt himself overflow with sensation, overloading, and he simply couldn't take it anymore and…

"Ichigo!" He cried out, reaching forward instinctively with his teeth to attack the neck he knew would be presented for him, biting so hard that he felt a warm, sticky rush of copper pennies fill his mouth even as his cock filled Ichigo's body. The rush of pleasure that sung through his veins almost instantly drained him, exhausted him, and emptied his mind of every coherent thought other than the most basic emotions. Love…devotion…fidelity…unending longing…all those remained while transient thoughts were tossed away.

Little death…

They collapsed then into the coats below, a pile of tangled limbs, neither man able to maintain the awkward posture they had been in anymore. For many minutes neither one spoke, the sounds of their labored breathing the only noise save for the party still raging outside in the dining hall. Eventually however, Kisuke rose to his knees and reached up to lethargically pull the bandages off his eyes, surveying the damage the two of them had wrought. His eyes widened at the presented scene, face breaking out in a broad grin.

Ichigo lay partially propped against the wall, his legs spread wide and long in front of him, thoroughly soiled panties hanging off the one ankle that still had a shoe wrapped around it. The other foot was bare, stockings broken free of their garter belts to hang in rumpled disorder, torn and ruined, all around his thighs. Ichigo's frilly skirt was still bunched at his waist, his entire lower half exposed to Kisuke's leer, come smeared liberally over his abdomen and dripping from his sweet pink ass to make puddles on the floor. There was even blood leaking from the wound on the side of his neck, staining the pristine fabric of the white choker he'd been wearing, effectively staining it a brilliant crimson.

But better than any of that was the look on his face, still flushed and sweaty, beaming in an intoxicating mix of satiation and pure love, eyes partially open to smile at Kisuke softly. His shaky hand reached out and touched Urahara's cheek before falling away, obviously fatigued, and ran up his own thigh somewhat lazily. His long fingers smeared in their combined come as it went and Kisuke couldn't remember when he'd seen anything more striking in his entire life.

Ichigo was like a wet dream brought to life.

"Good?" He crawled up and gathered Ichigo in his arms, settling his back on the wall so he could cradle the younger man in his embrace. "You're quite the exhibitionist Kurosaki-kun."

Ichigo purred against Kisuke's chest, running his cheek along the scratchy bandages still wrapped around his torso. "Very. Though I think you ruined my dress…"

"Ah, I'm sorry Ichigo. I'll buy you another."

Quiet laughter bubbled up from the young man nestled against his heart, brown eyes lifting, full of amusement.

"All right, but next time I'd like flats. These high-heels are murder on your feet."

* * *

**Again, Happy Halloween! What are you all going to be this year? I'm dressing up as Neliel from Bleach! My boobies are just big enough to fit that outfit. Sweet!**


	7. Dial 9 for Tete e Tete

**Greetings beloved readers! I come with more smut for your eager eyes to read! This one was actually a suggestion from a review I got over at _Sour Apple _which turned into this...thing that I wrote. I won't name names, but this chapter of _Easily Overlooked_ is written with them in mind. If any of you ever have a good idea for the series, please don't be shy about saying so! I often get inspiration from suggestions and your idea might just get written out! So go ahead and give me your plot bunnies! I love that!**

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* * *

__~I can imagine you covered in sweat and come.~_

Morning sunlight had been bouncing off his cheeks through the open classroom window when his pocket began to vibrate, startling him so much that Ishida had glared over at him annoyingly. Ignoring the angry stare, Ichigo glanced up to the front of the class where his teacher was lecturing and carefully reached into his back pocket to draw out a shiny black cell phone, turning it over in his hand to read the display. The phone was brand new, completely modern, and absolutely the most difficult thing to operate he'd ever owned. What did you need a touch screen that swiveled into two different positions for? What did you need internet on your phone for? Couldn't it just call and text people like normal phones?

But Kisuke had insisted, even offering to pay for the monthly charges, and given Ichigo the phone as an impromptu gift.

Ichigo's eyes widened upon reading the text message sprawled across the screen, barely containing an undignified sputter of surprise before quickly lowering the phone into his lap in case anyone were to look over his shoulder. What the hell was Kisuke thinking?! It wasn't as though their relationship were any sort of big secret, but that didn't mean that Urahara needed to send him filthy messages at _school_ where anyone could accidentally see!

And it wasn't as though Ichigo hadn't been thinking about the same thing since he'd arrived earlier that day.

The morning had been hectic from the moment they awoke, their impassioned kisses interrupted by a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass as they ran into the kitchen (Kisuke wearing nothing but a sheet around his hips) to see what the problem was. Jinta stood stupefied, staring at an entire kitchen cabinet that had broken free of its hinges and come plummeting down onto the tile below, scattering its contents into shining pieces all across the floor. Urahara was quick to pick up Ururu, warning her not to tread on the floor barefooted and ordering Jinta to go and get a broom while Tessai collected the fragments of wood that had splintered everywhere.

The mood for lovemaking had quickly fled.

Physical urges, however, are harder to stamp out once they're kindled, and Ichigo had found himself sitting in his first class mentally willing his body to stop tingling and his mind to stop drifting into the most readily available dirty fantasy. He'd just managed to get himself wrapped around fourteenth century literature when Kisuke had sent that damn text message, shattering his resolve and leaving his body achy and wanting. Why did he have to have such a perverted boyfriend? Why? Wasn't it bad enough that Ichigo had been corrupted a hundred times over by the older man's libido, now he had to fight these sort of desires at school too?!

Another vibration, this time in his lap, drew him from his inner contemplation and back to the moment at hand.

_~Do you know how good you look bent over the lab tables with my tongue up that sweet little ass of yours? Your moans are absolutely delicious. Did you miss me being inside you this morning Ichigo?~_

Shifting uncomfortably to make room for his quickly growing erection, Ichigo swallowed thickly and took a deep breath to calm himself. This wasn't fair. Not at all. They'd spent the night down in the Shoten's lab, tinkering with some of Kisuke's latest inventions before winding up with Ichigo sprawled face down across the cool resin tabletop, a set of eager teeth digging into the back of his neck as he was fucked until he'd nearly collapsed onto the floor. He couldn't really remember a whole lot afterwards, only that he'd wound up in his lover's bed, peacefully sleeping the night away in a warm pair of arms until morning had come to see him into another day.

Peace was the farthest thing from Ichigo's rapidly bouncing thoughts, his imagination supplying him quickly with erotic image after image until he swore under his breath and turned off the vibrating function on his phone, shoving it back into his pocket so he could ignore it. Looking back up towards the teacher, he found himself pinned beneath her frustrated stare, as though she'd been watching him for a while and was annoyed that he'd just now noticed. He smiled sheepishly and she turned back to the board with a raised eyebrow and a slight snort through her nose.

Amazingly, he managed to get through the rest of his class without incident, pushing all thoughts of Kisuke and what Ichigo wished they were doing out of his mind before filing out towards the art rooms for drawing class. In fact, he was so proud of himself for controlling his admittedly high teenage hormones that he decided to chance another look at his phone in case Urahara may have sent anything new. His face fell a little, almost disappointed, when he found no messages of any sort, shrugging and tucking it into the little pouch on his book bag.

Flashing light caught the corner of his eye again somewhere between drawing a piece of kiwi fruit and a really ugly puce-colored vase, turning to look at it with a completely bored expression. Nothing was duller than sitting in a silent room drawing still life portraits that you would eventually just throw away anyway. With any luck, that discreet flashing coming from his bag would be something interesting from Kisuke, anything to break the monotony of drawing fruit. Of course, that would require him to be sneaky about getting it out…

He'd never been particularly good at stealth.

The art teacher was busy in the back of the classroom putting some student sculptures into the kiln, so Ichigo wasn't worried about getting the cell out to see what he'd been sent. His eyebrow rose when instead of a text message, the voice message icon was flashing in the corner of the screen in its place, prompting him to cock his head to the side interestedly. What was this? He was a hundred times more likely to get caught listening to a message than just casually looking at a text, but his curiosity was already getting the better of him. How best to get out of sight long enough to hear to it? There were a few options, though they'd all require him to be left alone by his classmates to do them.

Deciding that the pencil sharpener in the corner was the best of his possibilities, he made quick work of his pencil's tip against the table, snapping it off while he slid the cell phone into his pocket.

"Shit," he said quietly, standing up and motioning to his broken pencil. "Broke it. I'll be right back."

The sharpener in question was situated perfectly for his needs. Far off in a corner and secluded from the rest of the room, it was almost too easy to hide the fact that he was waiting patiently for the voicemail to be played while he pretended to sharpen his pencil. Finally the long-awaited message began to play, and with that deep, smooth tone in Ichigo's ear, his pulse immediately began to speed up. He should have known that Kisuke would lay it on thick.

_~I'm guessing right about now you're in art class, no? I know its boring for you, but if you bring your supplies to the Shoten tonight I'll give you a better subject matter to draw. How do you want me? On my back with my cock in my hands? On my hands and knees with my ass in the air looking at you over my shoulder? I can give you any position you'd like, though I'm not sure how long you'd just be drawing me.~_

Ichigo had long since ceased to care about whether or not he could be caught, his eyes staring at the wall though not seeing it. Kisuke's warm voice in his ear was like liquid sex, conjuring each pornographic image perfectly in Ichigo's mind's eye as he spoke. A few times he could almost swear that there was a hitch in the blonde's voice, a skip of desire that told him Kisuke was not only saying these things but touching himself as well. Or at least that's what Ichigo was imagining…and really, who the hell cared if it was true or not? There was no way he could turn around now, not without giving the entire classroom a very good view of his very hard cock pushing against his very tight pants.

Damn. And there was more…

_~Are you hard for me yet? I know you are. I know what you love after all…and you know I love giving it to you. I can think of nothing better than to have you moaning underneath me while I fingerfuck you until you beg to ride my cock. Gods, you do beg so prettily Kurosaki Ichigo. No one could resist giving you whatever you wanted…especially not me.~_

Numb fingers dropped the pencil to the floor as Ichigo's hands dug into the side of his pants, desperate to keep himself from panting openly and expose his secret. Not that he wasn't making a fool of himself as it stood; numerous people were already standing nearby staring at him. He paid them no mind. His entire focus was on the sultry whispers and promises in his ears, on his cock beginning to throb, on his blood rushing almost painfully through his veins. His face was burning, his skin tingly and hypersensitive, as though he could feel even the slightest breeze that fluttered by his body. It was an incredible feeling, though _not_ the kind of feeling one generally wanted to have around a classroom of your peers.

Still the pleasant torture continued…

_~Nothing is so incredible as when I fill you up and feel your legs wrap around my hips like steel while your nails dig into my back. I always want you to make it hurt a little bit for me, give me a little bit of punishment, remind me why I'm alive. I was never really alive until I met you Ichigo. Never. Uh oh…~_

A hard tap on Ichigo's shoulder forced him to turn around, desire-dark eyes wide and barely seeing, mouth falling open in shock. Shit…teacher…

_~I bet you were just found out…I calculated how long it would take in a room of thirty people for one to stay on the phone for an extended period of time without anyone else noticing. Times up!~_

"Mr. Kurosaki," the art teacher hissed, unnaturally big hands perched angrily on her hips. "If you're not too busy with your phone-call, perhaps you'd like to finish your assignment?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Quickly grabbing his forgotten pencil from the floor, he managed to finish his drawing in record time with shaking hands and a cloudy mind, not giving a shit whether or not it looked good by the end and more than a little happy that lunch was coming up directly after class. His body was on _fire_, and if he didn't alleviate some of the pressure soon he was probably going to burst. As embarrassing as it might have been, he was going straight to the bathroom to get off and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him…

"Icccchiiiigggoooooo!!"

His hand was perched on the door to the bathroom when he heard the shout from behind, inwardly cursing his exceptionally bad luck before turning around to keep his attacker at bay. Keigo leaped at him from at least ten feet away, wrapping his arms around Ichigo's torso tightly and dragging them both outside to the courtyard before he could even properly defend himself. Dammit! All he wanted to do was masturbate…it probably wouldn't have even taken a long time! Five minutes, that's all he needed! What gods had he displeased to earn such a harsh, painful punishment!?

Lunch was an exceptionally quiet affair as Ichigo mechanically shoveled his food into his mouth, occasionally casting evil glares in Keigo's direction even though the other boy wouldn't have had the foggiest clue as to why. He didn't give a shit. All he'd needed was a few minutes to himself and yet here he was sitting around with six other people eating lunch when all he could think about was Kisuke's skin sliding hot and sweaty against his own. He knew it was unreasonable to blame his friends for this, but he'd never really been accused of being the most rational person around and he needed someone to blame his current predicament.

Of course, he could have blamed Kisuke himself…but he'd discovered a long time ago that every time he tried to be mad at the man it never really worked out. The blonde would do or say something that would melt Ichigo's fury and he'd find himself easily forgiving his oftentimes mischievous and devious lover. He probably _should_ have been extremely angry with Urahara for doing this to him…and it was a shame that he actually was somewhat enjoying it.

Not that he'd ever admit that, lest Kisuke do it more often.

"Ichigo, your phone is going off," Mizuiro leaned in and poked at his shoulder, stirring Ichigo from his thoughts once again. His phone was, in fact, sounding off, and he grabbed at it almost nervously, wondering what could possibly be next. He didn't want to have to explain why he was suddenly blushing and sporting an erection for no apparent reason. He'd explained enough embarrassing mishaps over the past few years to his friends.

His eyebrows came together when he read the word "multimedia", bringing the phone closer to his face as though that would facilitate his understanding. He really was a bit of a techno-idiot, not really understanding the need or want for these sorts of state-of-the-art, nerdy, and all-together useless displays of technology. Turning the screen gingerly to the side, he pressed his finger to the flashing button in the center and watched as the one thing he probably shouldn't have been watching at school came to startling life before his eyes.

He would have to thank Kisuke for this damn phone…

The picture was silent, but in this case Ichigo decided he really didn't need or want the sound, as that would have been a terrible giveaway. There lay his lover, sprawled out comfortably on their bed wearing nothing but a wide grin and a sly wink, his hands trailing delicately down his pale chest towards the nest of flaxen hair between his legs. Ichigo's mouth promptly went dry, his eyes shooting wildly up towards his friends as they all stared in wonder at his sudden change of mood. He smiled uneasily at them, shrugging helplessly before directing his attention back to the screen and its somewhat questionable content.

Kisuke had taken his eyes away from the camera and closed them, pushing his cheek against the pillow as he began to slowly stroke long fingers up and down his cock, the tip already leaking a bit down the shaft. His sweet mouth fell open, eyebrows coming together in pleasure as his lips began to move silently, mouthing words that Ichigo could only barely make out. The blonde's hand began to speed up, the other one coming around as his thighs spread, pushing two digits into his ass without any warning. Ichigo's hands were shaking visibly as he continued to watch the person he loved more than anything in the entire world fingerfuck himself so hard that Ichigo could have sworn that _he_ could feel it too. Kisuke was getting so close so quickly, his toes curling slightly as his gray eyes opened and stared directly at the camera, directly at Ichigo, and smiled just this side of evilly.

Ichigo never got to see the end.

Ignoring his friend's worried shouts, he jumped up and nearly ran across the courtyard towards the school, apologizing to a younger girl he ran into in his hurry to get somewhere, anywhere, that he could be alone. He couldn't take it, the pressure building up in his gut and groin were driving him to the point of not being able to think clearly, of being on the brink of coming in his pants without even having touched himself. Since he couldn't walk around school all day with come staining his pants he had to find somewhere he could get off, and it had to happen _soon_. Wasn't there anyplace in this entire school where he could masturbate in peace?!

He could hear voices in the boy's bathroom as he walked by, nearly whimpering as his fingers held more tightly to the phone in his hand. Where could he go? The teacher's lounge would be full right now, the girl's bathroom was a definite no, there were empty classrooms but there was no way of knowing when they'd be full again. He needed somewhere he wouldn't be disturbed for a few minutes and could relax or he wouldn't be able to do this. Where though?

Suddenly his eyes caught sight of a rather imposing gray metal door, walking over to it and pulling it open to look inside. Storage closet. A big one! Not giving it another thought, he walked in and shut the door behind him, pushing a desk against the door to keep anyone from coming in too quickly. The storage closet smelled of old books and desks, chalk and markers, but none of that mattered to Ichigo as he sat down on the floor underneath an old dirty window, spreading his legs and bending his knees in front of himself to get more comfortable.

The zipper of his slacks was being hastily lowered when his phone began to ring on the floor, vibrating and jumping in the dust of the storage closet. Ichigo was tempted not to answer it, determined to satiate his lust, but when he glanced down and saw what number it was he instantly picked it up and brought it to his ear, swallowing a few times since he didn't quite trust his voice.

"Moshi moshi," he breathed, not exactly sure why he was bothering with niceties when he knew damn well who was on the other end of the line. Oh well.

"~Are you alone~?" Kisuke's own voice was breathy as well, and it made Ichigo take pause for a moment, grinning to himself. It seemed he wasn't the only one who had been pushed to their limit by this little game of back and forth.

"Yes, are you?"

"~Of course. I assume you've gotten my messages this morning~?"

Instead of answering verbally, Ichigo leaned his head back against the wall and finished lowering the zipper of his pants, reaching into the flap of his boxers to pull out his throbbing cock and give it a long, slow stroke. His breath hitched in his throat as he smeared the fluid that was already building around the tip and heard Kisuke gasp in reply, the other man's voice cracking as he murmured nonsense into the phone. What was he up to? Was this going to be a one sided thing or were they going to have a little bit of phone sex?

"Are you touching yourself?" Ichigo questioned playfully, licking at his bottom lip and pushing a fingertip into the slit of his erection, moaning despite his best efforts not to. His outburst was met with another from over the phone, Kisuke's voice deep and needing. "I thought you just did this a few minutes ago."

"~As if that matters when it comes to you. Gods I hated you leaving me this morning without making love to you. I did nothing but think about you.~"

Ichigo moaned his agreement, his hand working tirelessly against his erection while he tried to settle the phone in a more manageable position cradled by his neck and ear. He didn't know how he was going to be able to continue holding it up while his body was shuddering and quivering the way it was. He'd try to keep it together though, since Kisuke's voice was making Ichigo's entire life take on a whole new meaning and there was no sound on earth as decadent as his lover in the throes of passion.

"Wanted you so bad," Ichigo whimpered, barely able to breath around the pleasure spiking up and down his spine and setting the hairs on the back of his neck on end. "I thought I'd come against the art room walls without a touch."

"~Go faster Ichigo, lick those beautiful fingers and make yourself come for me. I want to hear you.~"

Those words made Ichigo's fist take on an almost furious tempo, breathing heavily into the mouthpiece of the phone and listening as the man on the other end began to sound similarly close to his limit. Ichigo twisted his wrist around the straining flesh in his palm, crying out sharply, his voice bouncing off the walls of the closet as he bit on his bottom lip to taste the copper tang of blood against his tongue. He was right there, more quickly than he'd expected to be, wound too tightly from the hours of torturous play. But then again, he didn't have time to be leisurely about this either. It needed to happen _now_.

"Kisuke! Oh…wanna hear you come first. Please? Come on, please?"

"~As if I could refuse such a request…Ichi…~" Kisuke's voice broke near the end, trailing into a loud groan that turned quickly into a shout of Ichigo's name, the passion in his voice distinct and obvious. It made Ichigo's emotions spike, his breath catch almost violently in his throat despite his desperate need for air. There was nothing in the world like that voice, that man, that love, that passion, his delightful, mischievous lover. No one compared.

"Ohhh gods Kisuke!" he called out raucously, the phone tumbling from his shoulder to land in his lap though he paid it no attention. His focus was entirely on his climax, and he reached it without any more delay, the thick liquid coating his hand (and unfortunately the phone) as he cried out over and over again until the flesh in his hand became too sensitive to handle and he let his arms fall away towards the floor.

Distantly he could hear Kisuke calling for him on the phone, asking if he was all right, and he reached down to grab the device with sticky fingers and bring it to his ear. He grimaced when he felt his own come drip off the end of the cell phone and slide disgustingly down his cheek, doing his best not to make girly, pathetic, icky sounds. It was pretty gross though…not to mention he wondered if there would be damage to the phone.

"~Are you all right Ichigo~?" Kisuke's voice was concerned, though laced with afterglow, a charming combination. "~No one came in and disturbed you did they~?"

"Nah," Ichigo answered tiredly, watching the dust bunnies float through the beams of sunlight streaming through the window. The next class had probably started ten minutes ago, so there was little need to hurry or make himself move right away. He could relax and talk for a bit. "I just dropped the phone when I came. You don't think being covered with come will ruin it, do you?"

There was silence on the other end of the line for long seconds until finally Kisuke began to laugh, the sound surprised and pleasantly loud, and Ichigo joined him a moment later when he realized how odd his question actually was. Okay, so maybe it _was_ one of the most ridiculous things he'd ever asked someone, but he really didn't wan to ruin such an expensive gift! Then again, it would have been Kisuke's fault if he had, so maybe it was all right in the long run. Urahara had more money than he let on anyway…

"Hey, Kisuke?"

"~Hmm~?"

"You wanna meet for lunch in a half hour and help me clean up this phone?"

"~Ichigo, it would be my pleasure~"

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**It's nearly my biiiirrrthhhdaaay! I think, in celebration of another passing year, I might just write a romantic fluffy mess for my favorite two boys. Or some Grimmichi. Or maybe some Hichichi...we'll see how my muse plays along this week. Loves to you, dear readers! Happy Valentine's Day a little early if I don't see you before that!**

**Cherry! **


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